Surprise to everybody
by RedHatMeg
Summary: Mycroft Holmes said once that dying is the only thing human beings can be relied upon to do. Now Mycroft Holmes is dead. How will his friends and family react?


**So the idea for this came from the realization that most fics where Mycroft dies, center around Sherlock's grief. So I wanted to show reactions of Holmes parents, Anthea, Lady Smallwood and other people who knew Mycroft.**

 **I must admit, writing this thing was a chore at times. There were moments when I thought: "Fuck it. I won't finish it.", but something was pushing me to go on, and here we have an outcome.**

 **At first it was supposed to be a oneshot, but later I've got an idea for concept. However, to be frank. I'm not sure I will continue this story, so for now this is just a weird thing of uncertain status.**

 **Maybe it will at least motivate others to write more fics with more people mourning Mycroft.**

 **Please, review.**

 **Denial**

The first person who heard the news (and who's duty from now on was to break the news to others) was his personal assistant. Certain agent informed Anthea about the whole thing through the phone and for the first couple of seconds, she was just standing in place as million thoughts passed through her mind.

 _No, it can't be… It's just a joke… He's just hiding… Like that time in Lima, or Madagascar… or… or…_

He always had a backup plan. Many times it seemed like he was dead only for him to come back a day or two later with a smug smile and a fascinating story of his survival. Anthea learned long time ago to have faith in him. So she told the agent that she wishes to see the body, believing that this time (like always) there was none.

But she was quickly informed that there _was_ a body.

Well, it could have meant anything. Ever since _Operation: Lazarus_ Anthea knew that it could also be a really well done dummy. So she went to the morgue where his corpse was supposed to be placed and she was determined to make sure that it wasn't his body. Because it simply couldn't be.

He looked real. So very, _very_ real… If it was a dummy, it was identical to the very last detail. Anthea carefully touched his arm and was surprised to feel a real human skin. A freezing cold, but still a skin. She asked few question to the mortician like if he checked the dental records already or ran at least some DNA tests. He replied that yes, he sent the DNA sample to the laboratory, but it seemed unnecessary because he ran every possible test regarding the corpse's identity, from dental file to fingerprints.

She was still skeptical. She still believed he was only faking his death and soon he will show up in his office as usual. She will only smile at his return (as always) and everything will be back to normal. For now, she was going to inform others about his apparent demise. Obviously most of people were supposed to believe her employer to be dead.

She looked one last time at the corpse. Its face seemed to be so peaceful… Like this man's death was kind to him. For a moment she did believe that it was he, who lied on this table. And she wondered what kind of thoughts crossed his mind in the last minutes of his life… Was he sad, worried… cynical? Or maybe he was happy and finally at peace?

She shook her head.

 _No, it's not him… Unless the DNA test confirms it, this is not mister Holmes._

But she had a work to do, so she turned her gaze away from the body and left the room.

* * *

Alicia Smallwood was observing Anthea. They both acted professional, emotionless even though they were working with Mycroft Holmes for years and considered themselves his closest companions. Lady Smallwood rested her arms on her desk and, still staring at Mycroft's personal assistant, asked:

"You've seen the body?"

"Yes, it looked real." Anthea replied and quickly added: "But I'm waiting for the results of DNA test."

"Good." Alicia smiled, but weakly.

She put her hands together and for a moment was just staring, not even at her guest, but at the space in front of her.

"You know," She began suddenly. "I remember him saying once: _Everybody dies. It's the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do. How can it still come as a surprise to people?_ "

Anthea grinned lightly. Alicia could almost hear her unspoken reply: "Yes, I believe he would say something like that."

Lady Smallwood didn't move.

"The thing is," She went on. "I have this feeling that he might be dead for real this time."

Not so long time ago she would think that he was unbreakable. After all, he was supposed to be the Iceman, never showing weakness. He simply couldn't afford to show it, not in public, not when he was playing for such high stakes. Lady Smallwood knew that he was as human as everyone else, but there was always this assumption in the back of her head, this unshakable conviction that Mycroft Holmes will last forever.

But latest events made Lady Smallwood realize he wasn't as strong as he everyone thought he was. They had to face the fact that even Antarctica could die one day. After all, death comes for us all. Sometimes sooner, sometimes later, but it is still an indisputable truth. Let's not forget that Mycroft wasn't a young man anymore, he had stressful and dangerous job, and he was ready to die for his family and country.

The sudden realization of Mycroft's mortality was actually horrifying. The mere thought that the man such as him could one day be no more, was horrifying, considering how important his work was and how irreplaceable he was. The England would be on the verge of downfall, if Mycroft Holmes was gone.

Lady Smallwood moved her eyes on the girl. Anthea seemed to observe her superior carefully all this time, so Alicia smiled to her and straightened herself.

"But you're right, Anthea." She replied. "We need to be certain. Inform me about the DNA test results."

"What about mister Holmes' family?" The assistant asked suddenly.

Yes, what about them? Should they know about their son and brother being lost in action or possibly dead?

After couple seconds of weighting the options, Lady Smallwood replied:

"Maybe if we let Sherlock Holmes see the body, will be able to find something we've missed. I'm sure younger mister Holmes will make some interesting observations to share…"

"And the parents?" Anthea asked. "They're on another trip in Oklahoma. Should we tell them?"

"Maybe it will be for the best to wait." Was Lady Smallwood's answer. "At least until results come up and we will decide what plan put into action."

Alicia knew that Mycroft prepared plan, especially considering his family. Instructions regarding security of his parents, younger brother and sister in case he couldn't take care of those matters anymore. But it was too soon to look for them. They had to be certain. They had to find out the truth to know what steps they should make. They had protocols for this kind of things.

Lady Smallwood dismissed Anthea and soon was left alone with her thoughts.

She had a feeling… but for now she let herself believe that Antarctica was still alive.

* * *

First reaction from Sherlock Holmes upon the news about his brother's apparent death was an amused snort. Doctor Watson, who was just staring at Anthea with disbelief, quickly turned to his flatmate and gave him a stern look.

"Sherlock, this isn't funny."

The detective didn't even move his gaze from Mycroft's assistant. He just asked:

"Do you seriously want me to believe that my brother is dead? I'm sure he's just hiding somewhere and will be back in no time."

"There is a body." Anthea replied shortly.

"So what if there is a body?" He inquired, his eyes on the young woman. "It can be fake. It can be doppelganger. My brother for sure has plenty of resources to fake his own death."

Due to the obvious connection his mind went back to that fateful Christmas in the morgue. The image of the corpse of fake Irene Adler appeared in front of detective's eyes. It looked identical, he had no doubt it must have been The Woman herself lying on the table… But it wasn't her. It was someone else who's naked body had an uncanny resemblance to Irene's.

If Irene Adler could find a doppelganger, then Mycroft could too.

"We are running now a DNA tests." Anthea went on. "But we would like you to see the body. Maybe you will find something interesting."

 _DNA samples can be swapped_ , Sherlock thought.

He raised from the armchair he was sitting on and stood in front of PA.

"Okay, let's go."

John looked at his friend with surprise, but after couple of seconds stood up too.

"I'm coming with you. I have to see it on my own eyes."

Anthea smiled.

"I was hoping you would want to see it as soon as possible."

During their short journey to the morgue, Sherlock and John were silent, but the detective could sense nervousness in his friend's body language. There were unasked questions floating in the air and Sherlock was able to deduce each and one of them. Soon John will finally ask them, but for now he cautiously decided to wait until after they will see the corpse.

Once the mortician put the white cloth up and uncovered the body, Sherlock couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure of his initial theory. Suddenly everything around him disappeared and there was only Sherlock and the body in front of him. The body that had face of Mycroft, his physique, his scars… The detective's eyes wasted no time to notice all the little things he was familiar with ever since childhood, when he was able to see his brother during summer trips to the beach. Even the stretch marks serving as a reminder of Mycroft's former obesity were present.

 _It is him…_

Sherlock observed the corpse and for a moment felt lost just like that time, when he realized that Irene was dead. But somehow the blow was even harder…

"Sherlock?" John's worried voice called to him and the detective shook his head.

Alongside with doctor Watson came back Anthea and the mortician. Sherlock once again found himself in reality, even though his gaze was still mostly focused on the body in front of him. The consulting detective frowned.

 _No… it's not him. It can't be him._

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." John said to him, resting reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Sherlock didn't look at his friend. Instead he turned to Anthea and told her to go outside. In the empty corridor of the morgue he, she and John started to talk.

"So what do you think, gentlemen?" Anthea asked.

"There's no doubt. It is Mycroft." John replied.

"He looks like Mycroft, but it doesn't mean it's him." Sherlock argued. "I would advice two things: do at least three DNA tests in three independent laboratories; and start a secret investigation in case my brother would like to make a contact."

"Was there anything suspicious about the body?" Anthea asked, looking at him.

The detective could easily detect concern in her eyes. She suspected that he was saying it because of first stage of grief: denial.

 _Maybe it is the case…_ Some part of him was saying. And maybe it was his rational part, but the problem with his rational part was that it seemed to support both the possibility of Mycroft's death and of his survival. It certain didn't help that his mind decided to choose this specific personification, and, to be fair, this time he wasn't sure if it wasn't his emotional side in disguise.

"I just know that dead body can be deceiving." He finally replied. "After all," He smirked to the PA. "I was dead too."

* * *

Later, back on the Baker Street, John was sitting in the living room and drinking tea with Mrs. Hudson. He just told the old lady about the news (she initially missed it because she was visiting a friend, when Anthea arrived) and about their visit in the morgue, and now they both were spending the evening in silence while Sherlock was doing some research in his make-shift laboratory.

Mrs. Hudson's first reaction to the news about Mycroft's demise was very emotional: "Oh, dear…" and the worried look directed towards Sherlock. Right now, when the initial shock was over, she gazed at the doctor and gave him a small smile.

"Maybe it's only temporary." She commented. "Maybe he will be back soon…"

John's eyes moved from his tea to the landlady.

"I sure hope so." He whispered.

After all, he knew about at least three instances of supposedly dead people being actually alive; and two of those people were members of Holmes family. So was it really such a long stretch to believe that Mycroft would fake his death too?

Even thought the body in the morgue looked so horrifyingly real? John still had this vision in front of his eyes – the vision of Mycroft's body on a table… and Sherlock's reaction to it.

"The body certainly looked like him…" John continued and then gave a heavy sign. "We should at least put into consideration that Mycroft might be gone."

"Why, it certainly feels unreal." Mrs. Hudson said. "I know that death comes for us all, but Mycroft is always there, sticking his nose into the business of others and acting all high and mighty."

John only chuckled and nodded.

"You know," The elder woman began with somber expression. "I don't think I'm ready for him to be gone."

The physician looked at her.

"Me too, Mrs. Hudson." He said. "Me too."

* * *

After five days the results of DNA test revealed that the body in the morgue indeed belonged to none other than Mycroft Holmes. Not trusting Anthea's men, Sherlock condoned his own tests, using other samples of his brother's DNA, but they only confirmed the corpse's identity. There also seemed to be no signs from Mycroft and eventually Anthea, Lady Smallwood and the residents of Baker Street had to face the fact that the man called Iceman, British Government and Antarctica was no more.

It still felt unreal, and in spite of all the evidence, some part of Anthea wanted to believe that the body in the morgue was a perfect mystification and her employer was still somewhere, breathing. But she knew that it was a false hope – after all, if mister Holmes _was_ still alive, he would contact her to ask for her assistance. He didn't, so the body wasn't fake.

Lady Smallwood was officially acknowledging the results and acting as cold and professional as usual, but deep down she also wished for some kind of miracle. After all, Mycroft was always good with providing miracles… But once she visited the morgue and saw the body for herself, this hope has been irreversibly shattered. That night Alicia spent in her office crying.

Sherlock was still condoning his little investigation, looking for a clue that would support his firm belief that his brother was still alive somewhere and this was all an elaborate plan to fool everybody. John, Mrs. Hudson and others, who learnt about Mycroft's death, were trying to convince him it was futile. Eventually the detective's own mind reconciled with the fact that all the evidence pointed out towards the only possible solution. After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. And the truth was that his brother was dead.

Nevertheless there was a funeral to be taken care of and they couldn't postpone this sad duty of informing Violet and Siger Holmes about Mycroft's death anymore. During short conversation between Sherlock, Lady Smallwood and Anthea, they agreed that it was a family matter so this duty fell on the consulting detective's shoulders. Still, his brother's assistant was going to come with him.

* * *

"Is this supposed to be a joke? Do you really think it's funny, Sherlock?"

To say that Violet Holmes was angry it was an understatement. She was glaring at her younger son and this woman that was Mycroft's personal assistant, not believing what she just heard.

"Mycroft died." Sherlock repeated. "The funeral is next Friday."

His expression was serious. If he _was_ joking, he was very dedicated to maintain the façade.

"Stop lying and tell us what this is about." Siger ordered.

"We're sorry to inform you that mister Holmes died in a mission." Anthea said and it was obvious that it was hard for her to say it.

The Holmes matriarch looked at her and gave a cheerless chuckle.

"This is ridiculous." She said. "Do you really think, young lady, that I will believe you? Let me remind both of you that not so long time ago me and Siger learnt that our supposedly deceased daughter is still alive and kept in a prison. I also remember that time when the whole world thought that our younger son committed suicide, but we knew he was alive. Deaths of two of our children have been faked, and now you want us to believe that our third child is dead too?! This is a cruel joke and you know it!"

Sherlock hit the table with his fist and momentarily his parents were taken aback. His expression changed from just serious to angry, but Violet could trace some kind of sadness there too. For the first time during this conversation, she put into consideration that he might be serious.

And so Anthea filled them about the circumstanced of Mycroft's death and the more Violet was listening the more her mind was screaming that it wasn't true, it was just a part of one of her eldest son's elaborate plans. After all, Mycroft helped stage his brother's suicide, so he would be able to fake his own death too. But then Sherlock told her about the DNA tests and she believed this scenario less.

But she and Siger were fooled once, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake as years ago, when Rudy told them about the fire in asylum. She demanded to see the autopsy report. Anthea immediately gave them the files that included all the details. Violet browsed through it and her eyes quickly stopped on the photo depicting face of the deceased that certainly looked like a horribly pale Mycroft…

Nevertheless, she closed the file and looked sternly and Anthea and Sherlock.

"We want to see the body." Siger expressed her own thoughts.

Apparently their interlocutors were ready for that too, because five minutes later all four of them were on their way to the hospital. The journey was long and heavy with horrible, awkward silence. Sherlock and Anthea didn't say anything to them in the car and on the way to the morgue. Finally, when the mortician brought the covered body Anthea asked for, Sherlock carefully revealed its face to his parents.

For the moment that felt like eternity Violet was staring at Mycroft's corpse and felt all too familiar realization that the child she brought into this world, raised and nurtured all those years is no more. She once again felt this horrible feeling of being a parent who outlived his own offspring. And the more she was staring at Mycroft's pale and unmoving body, the more she was certain that – unlike his siblings – he will stay dead.

Once again they were going to bury their child. But this time it will be for real.

Violet started to cry and immediately buried her face in Siger's arms. She knew that her husband was just as devastated as her, but tried to be strong. He was only sobbing softly and hugging his wife tightly like his own life was depending on it.

The time for the denial was over. The fact of the matter was that Mycroft Holmes was truly and without the shade of a doubt, dead. Now the proper mourning could begin.


End file.
